


Devour Me

by vulpixelates



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, War Table (Dragon Age), roughish sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 05:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14537235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpixelates/pseuds/vulpixelates
Summary: Cullen has some ideas on a new use for the War Table.





	Devour Me

**Author's Note:**

> Every Cullen-smut-writer has to write a War Table scene eventually, right?

"Inquisitor, if you don't mind, I have something that requires your attention."

"Oh?" she asked innocently but unable to hide a smirk. The Commander had been giving her that look for the entire War Council meeting – the _Cullen_ look, the one he gave her when he was trying desperately to hide how badly he wanted her around other people. It was a look she’d missed over the past few weeks, in her excursion to the Emerald Graves.

She’d missed a great many things involving Cullen, some of which she had a feeling she was about to be reintroduced to.

"Yes," he replied, voice dipping into the registers he only used with her. The others had left now, closed the door behind them. "An operation. Quick in and out procedure, if you will." A crooked, goofy grin spread across his scarred lips as he inched closer.

"My dear Commander, is there such a thing with you?"

The grin grew. "Not really,” he admitted.

"And… where would you have us... discuss this operation?"

Cullen looked around, feigning indecision. He was a terrible actor. "Well, where better than the War Room?"

A giggle escaped her, paired with a knowing grin. "Oh, ‘ma’vheraan. Everyone thinks you an innocent little chantry boy, but they haven't a clue."

"As long as you do."

He closed the final distance between them, twisting her around and bending her over the War Table in one fluid motion, hands caressing her bottom.

Giggling as he brushed his beard stubble over the sensitive patch of skin where her neck met her shoulder, she barely found herself able to ask, "Are those doors locked?" 

"No," he murmured. "I guess you'd better keep watch, _Inquisitor_."

A spike of anxious anticipation spread through her.  The doors that led into the room were directly in front of them – anyone who happened to open them would get a clear view of their carnal indiscretion: the Inquisitor herself bent over by the Commander of her army. Heat flooded her tummy and spread all over her.

She had no idea what had gotten into Cullen, but she _liked_ it.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought of this?" he whispered to her, hands tracing her every curve. "Often, it's the only thing that gets me through these dreadful meetings. Leliana bickers back and forth with Morrigan and Josephine plays mediator while I imagine you writhing beneath me and moaning my name." His fingertips found the seam of her pants, tracing it over her apex just firmly enough to elicit a hissing breath.

"Oh, is _that_ why you're always blushing and hiding behind the table?"

He laughed, rubbing lightly at the seam in retaliation for her taunting tone. " _Maybe_. Can you blame me?"

"No," she breathed, hissing again at the contact. "I think about it too."

"Is that so? Tell me." His mouth was at her ear now, teeth against her earlobe. She shivered as he ran his tongue up her ear and took the tip between his lips, sucking lightly.

"I think about you throwing me over this table." She barely managed to choke out the words; she could feel him pressing against her ass through their layers of clothes and it was all her mind could focus on through her pulse pounding in her ears. "Wrapping my legs around you. Feeling you grip my hips and _filling me_.”

She felt his lips curl into a smirk against her ear. "That sounds... most pleasant." Removing his fingers from their place between her thighs he added, "But that isn’t what I am going to do. Not yet, anyway."

"What is the course of attack then, Commander?"

"I need to taste you first."

Ioren’s exhale turned into a low, needy moan. “ _Please_.” The only thing she loved nearly as much as using her mouth on Cullen was when he did the same to her.

“With pleasure,” he purred into her ear.

Wasting no time, then he was lifting her hips up, pulling her pants and smalls off, managing to get them past one of her boots but leaving the other side, before kneeling behind her. The cool air against her skin was soon replaced by hot, heavy breath and lingering hands, caressing her from lower back to behind her thighs.

Ioren didn’t dare take her eyes off of the door now, but it was a struggle to keep her eyes from closing as she took in the sensation and her pulse raced. She felt his heated breath get closer and closer to where she wanted him and squirmed just as she felt him glide a steady finger over her folds, back to front.

“’Ma’haurasha,” she whispered, pushing back into his finger as it disappeared. “Sathan, ar isala ma. _Please_.”

The words had barely left her mouth when she felt his tongue on her, mimicking what his finger had just done with slow precision. A familiar groan escaped Cullen’s lips as he tasted her, both satiated and driven to more at once. He placed nibbling kisses over her already wet, swollen sex, teasing with his ardent lips as she pushed back into him, desperate for more. She wished she could watch him, see the expression he always wore on his face when his mouth was on her – like a starving man indulging in his favorite dessert.

Cullen wasted no time teasing after that, knowing their window was short. While his tongue focused on her clit, he dipped a finger between her folds once more, sliding into her. He sent spikes of pleasure through her as his tongue went from rubbing wide to tight circles over her clit, and then back again. Ioren found herself gripping at nothing, wishing she had something to bury her fingers into, as pressure continued to coil within her core.

Soon he was pumping a fervent finger – no, two – into her as he worked her. Each stroke against that spot within her had her panting, gasping, writhing, _moaning_ , driving her closer and closer to the edge. He knew her rhythm well, knew he was working her exactly how she liked, and when she was about to whimper that she was about to come undone, he took her clit in his lips and _sucked_ , pushing her over that edge at full strength. As she came, she finally surrendered, eyes snapping shut as she forgot why she’d even held them open in the first place, and cried out his name in utter bliss.

With care, Cullen slowly withdrew his fingers, releasing her oversensitive nub from his lips and giving it one last lingering kiss. Ioren shuddered, still catching her breath.

“Maker, you’re amazing,” he told her, standing up.

Lazily looking at him over her shoulder, Ioren laughed. “ _Me_?”

Cullen lifted her from her position and turned her around once more, setting her down so her hips were at the edge of the table. “Yes, you,” he breathed, settling between her thighs, a hand on each and sliding up to her hips. “I’ve never wanted anyone more—anything.”

Ioren’s gaze flickered to the considerable bulge at the front of his trousers. Her fingers found it, nails dragging over him through the struggling fabric. “I can tell.”

Cullen growled, a predatory glimmer in his eye replacing the semi-sweet one from moments before. “Be careful, little minx.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she challenged.

And he was on her again, lips meeting as she tugged at his belt with deft fingers. She found herself thanking the gods that he hadn’t worn his armor today – and realizing he must have planned this. As she tasted herself on his tongue, she freed his cock from its confinement and took it in her hand, stroking it and feeling him throb at her touch. A deep groan escaped his throat as the last of his hard-held control seeped away.

He wasn’t the only one losing control. Ioren ached for the sweet feeling of their bodies joined, especially after so long apart. She’d thought about it for weeks, in the few solitary moments she was able to hold onto. She wanted this—him—now more than she wanted to breathe.

Leaning back, she spread herself before him, legs hooking over his hips and positioning the wide head of him at her slick entrance. He groaned once more at the mere contact with her and louder as he pressed in, watching closely as he disappeared inside of her. A slow, steady rhythm began with his hips, head thrown back for a moment before he bent over her, as desperate as she was to be as close as possible. Briefly, her mouth captured his little moans, savoring each inch of him. His strokes were airing the heat inside of her, turning the smoldering cinders into a raging fire.

Losing himself in his fog of need, Cullen slid himself further and further into her with each motion of his hips. _Creators_ , she had _missed_ this – missed _him_ and his smell and the way he says her name when he’s just woken up, missed his touch and the feeling of his thickness filling her and watching his face contort as he does it. The agony of being away from him for such long periods of time was almost worth it for the intensity of their reunions. _Almost_.

“ _Mythal’enaste_ , you’re perfect,” she groaned into his ear, her boots digging into his back.

“You are,” he whispered back from where his lips were pressed against her shoulder. “Maker, so _wet_.” The grunts he made as he moved his hips drove Ioren wild, spurring her to another peak nearly as much as the thumb he brought to her clit. His free hand went to her wrists, already thrown above her head, and held them down as he took her.

Soon he was filling her completely, hips pressed against the back of her thighs, scarred mouth agape and breath ragged. Ioren pulled him from her shoulder by a handful of his golden mane, desperate to see his face, and breathed, “Ar lath ma, ‘ma’vheraan.”

“And I, you,” he replied unsteadily, whiskey-colored eyes burning with a ravenous need that was no doubt matched by her own gaze. “I am yours, irrevocably. And you are mine.” Cullen kissed her then—hungrily, greedily, all teeth and tongue and moans as he resumed driving himself into her. He was close, as close as she was, she could tell by his frenzy.

“Fill me, then,” she whispered against his lips between attacks.

It wasn’t necessary to tell him twice.

His previously ordered thrusts went irregular, frantic as he worked himself over the edge at her behest. Ioren met his bucks with her own hips, writhing underneath him just as he’d imagined.

“I’m going to—”

“Me too. _Cullen_.”

He moaned her name in response, over and over like a litany, and she came undone around him and cried out in turn at the surge of heat that exploded in her. He released her wrists in favor of wrapping his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to him and sinking his teeth into her shoulder. Burying himself fully within her, he finally spent himself. He nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to catch himself with his elbows, propping himself up.

As they each caught their breath, chests heaving , Cullen dusted kisses over where he had just bitten her, a silent apology for the mark it would leave despite knowing that she loved when he left mementos of their lovemaking on her skin. Each time she saw it, she’d think of this moment, entangled on the War Table—

 _Oh, Creators._ They were on the _War Table_.  She’d forgotten, in the heat of the moment. If the Void truly did exist, she was certainly on her way. But as Cullen lifted his head and grinned at her, carefree and tender, she didn’t care.

“I love you,” she found herself whispering again.

“Ar lath ma, ‘ma’sal’shiral,” Cullen said back. He stumbled over the words a bit, but the intent was there.

She had no idea where he’d heard the endearment before – she certainly had never said it in front of him. The best translation she could think of in human terms was “love of my life,” or literally, “you are my soul’s journey.” It had a deep meaning among her people – it was something reserved for people who intended to be bonded, for people who were certain they would never part. It implied commitment and devotion.

Tears welling in her eyes, raw emotion flooded her mind, coupled with the sense of closeness she already felt to him in their afterglow. Ioren brought one hand up to trace his hairline and another to rest against his chest, over his heart, and smiled the smile that was only for behind closed doors. The one that showed where her own heart truly was.

“Cullen… I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

 

\--

Elven Translations

 ** _‘Ma’vheraan_** _– my lion_  
**Sathan, ar isala ma** – please, I need you  
**‘Ma’haurasha** – _my honey (very sexual endearment, essentially means “you make me wet”)_  
**Ar lath ma** – I love you  
**‘Ma’sal’shiral –** my life (“love of my life” or “you are my soul’s journey”) (my interpretation of it is purely headcanon)


End file.
